


Until We Are Wed

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, First Meeting, Freehand Climbing, Hiding in the Bushes, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Whoops Where's the Chaperone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: “You’re not a noble of Valeria,” he murmured, and one hand – pale and elegant, with surprisingly coarse fingertips and strength carved into the tendon and bone of long fingers – took Kurogane firmly by the chin, tilting his face into the dying light of the sun sinking below them. On Kurogane’s skin, his fingertips were deliciously cool. “How do you know who I am?”
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	Until We Are Wed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aythli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aythli/gifts).



> Tumblr prompt fill, for an Arranged Marriage AU. Prompt as follows:
> 
> "Kurogane almost gets flattened by someone climbing out of an upper story window and shimmying down the side of the building. It's not exactly the most auspicious way to meet your arranged husband."

No matter how sturdy the iron guttering looked, Kurogane wasn’t fool enough to try it, choosing instead to climb free-hand down the brickwork beside it. The ledge of the window was generous, easy to climb out on, and the old stone of the palace walls was rough enough he could get a good hold, even in leather gloves. It didn’t take too long to climb down far enough that he could jump to the soft ground below, and so he did: the footfall of his landing muted by the rain-damp grass just beyond the hedging that lined the flowerbeds, and his shadow silent in the dusky light of evening.

Above, from the windows glowing with lantern light, he could still hear music and laughter. _Not for me,_ he thought, and turned his back– and _that_ was when the gentle creaking from somewhere above became a splintering _crack!!_ and a panicked yelp, and then a sudden weight crashing down that drove him to the ground.

He rolled as he went down, caught whatever – _whoever_ – had just landed on him with his hands tangled in the soft folds of a fur cloak, but they were still heavy enough to squeeze the breath out of him in a grunting huff as they sprawled across his chest, legs splayed and knees pressing against his heaving ribs.

“Ah,” said a voice, breathless and throaty with it, and Kurogane squinted up against the fading sunset, orange light gilding everything with bronzed fingertips so that fair hair turned almost molten yellow and eyes that would be startlingly blue by daylight seemed a soft and shadowed violet. “Hello,” said the man huskily, and looked down at Kurogane with something like wonder.

“Get off me,” grunted Kurogane, because _really._ There was a time and place for polite greetings, and it was not while _sitting atop someone in the garden of a Valerian palace_.

The man above him flushed in awkward realisation, a ruddy spill of colour that burned across the bridge of his nose and darkened his cheeks, and he squirmed in sudden embarrassment, trying to plant leather boots into the yielding lawn to gain enough purchase to rise–

–but the music drifting down from above cut out with a discordant _rattle-bang-sqrrreekk!!_ that sounded like a harpsichord falling down a staircase, and they both jumped like guilty children at the shout that followed.

“ _Fuck_ ,” whispered the man atop him with sudden vehemence, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “They know I’m gone.” His face darkened, the shadows of the evening falling heavy where he bowed his head and his soft fringe tumbled across his eyes. It should not have been attractive, to see that pensive wariness cast in thin, fine-boned features, but it _was_ , and _that_ was startling enough that Kurogane almost forgot what that exclamation actually meant in the first place.

“You’re the prince,” he said, when his senses came back to him, and found his grip in that velvet and fur cloak knotted all the tighter. “Here for your betrothal,” he finished, voice shocked soft and stunned, floating in his chest even beneath the warm press of leather boots and soft velour that wrapped the lean legs squeezed around him.

“ _Yes_ ,” hissed Fai of Valeria, Fluorite Prince of the Eternal Crown, and now his eyes were sparking and _hot_ , enough that the weight and warmth of his body sprawled across Kurogane’s chest seemed to ring through his bones like a bell struck. “And I would very much like it if I were not _found_ –”

He stopped where he was twisting, words cutting short with a click of his teeth as he turned back and down to look Kurogane in the eye. “You’re not a noble of Valeria,” he murmured, and one hand – pale and elegant, with surprisingly coarse fingertips and strength carved into the tendon and bone of long fingers – took Kurogane firmly by the chin, tilting his face into the dying light of the sun sinking below them. On Kurogane’s skin, his fingertips were deliciously cool. “How do you know who I am?”

The words _because I am sworn to be yours_ died unspoken on Kurogane’s tongue in the echo of a fierce howl that rang out, the booming bellow of a general roaring orders to soldiers shaking the walls of the palace, a shout of “ _FIND THEM!_ ” rattling both their bones, and Fai startled with a violence that spoke of dread.

“General Taishukuten,” Fai whispered, face pale even in the twilight. “I can’t–”

Kurogane clamped his hands about Fai’s hips, gripping tight to that narrow waist through folds of fur and velvet and fine silks, and braced his legs, and even as Fai huffed in a gasp of breath, Kurogane pushed up and _rolled_ ; the motion tumbled them both under the hedge, into the garden bed proper, and the light turned soft and green and dim beneath the bower of leaves and shade.

“Wh–”

“Shh,” murmured Kurogane, as softly as he could. With Fai beneath him now – warm and firm and lean with muscle that pressed hot and close against his broader frame – it was easy to place his fingers just gently on parted lips, to stopper that voice before it could speak.

The world felt quieter now, in this cool secret place, and the scent of crushed greenery rose sweet and sharp and herbaceous from the damp leaves that wove around them.

“Oh,” said Fai, just as softly, his hair spilling soft and silky to halo his face, and when the realisation of who it was that held him here came it hooded his eyes and gentled the tight lines of his mouth, a spark of something not unwelcome in his sharp gaze. “You’re the Lord from Nihon, to the north– the first-born son of the Empress’ cousin, heir to the lands of Suwa. My betrothed, _Suwano Youou_ ,” he said, and with the careful enunciation of a prayer. On his lips, Kurogane’s true name sounded new and _strange_ , and it wrought a shiver down his spine. It was not a bad feeling.

“Kurogane,” he corrected, not without hesitance. “Until we are wed,” he finished, because that was the truth of it; his true name could not be spoken by any but those who birthed him and the one he would cleave to in marriage. This man, who he had been promised to at his birth; this man, whose father had ended the war between their peoples.

“Yes,” said Fai, and the softness of his voice tickled sharp and clean, cutting Kurogane to the quick beneath its soft weight. He leant up, slowly, balancing one hand in the litter of leaves and mulch, as though he did not give a damn for the damp and the dirt that bled through the fine silk of his sleeve, and when his lips brushed Kurogane’s cheek it was to whisper like a promise.

“Until then.”

**Author's Note:**

> If Fai isn't careful, he's going to end up being chained to a royal chaperone and then being frog-marched down the aisle before he has the chance to even think about debauching his betrothed. Luckily for him, Kurogane is very good at being sneaky.


End file.
